


Coneflowers & Coffee

by bellygunnr



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, M/M, Office Sex, Tender Sex, Trans Male Character, but its very soft and sweet, it's all oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Gordon's been working himself too hard, so Barney takes the night shift just to catch him in the act.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 8
Kudos: 185





	Coneflowers & Coffee

You’re working late-- too late, if the ticking clock on the wall is any indicator. Thirty minutes past midnight, the long hand inching mercilessly on to mark the next hour, but you still have two reports to finish after this one. These weren’t even your reports, but as the youngest in the whole department, respect was hard-won and exhaustion made it difficult to fight for. You have no idea how they expect you to formulate experiments, conduct them, produce the paperwork for them, and complete HEV training all at the same time. Bruising from the latter still purpled your hands-- yet you still gripped the pen, committing data to stone in sharp lettering. Stopping just didn’t feel like an option.

But the clock ticks on, and the oppressive silence of Black Mesa just keeps growing heavier. You’d leave them for tomorrow if there hadn’t been rumors of safety drills, leaked by the nearby Security team. Barney himself had forfeited the information, possibly a small mercy to the science team. After all, it was a veritable pain in the ass shutting down work and experiments just for a false crisis. Easier to just never start the work, take the day slow. 

Dammit, you’ve been reading the same data table for five minutes now, and it wasn’t getting any more coherent. The text seemed to wiggle into nothingness as you stare down at the paper, rubbing the corner of your eyes. Were your glasses dirty? You try to rub them clean on the edge of your coat sleeve, which seems to be coffee-stained. You groan, frustrated.

“Woah, Dr. Freeman. Isn’t it a little past your bedtime?” 

You jump, glasses sliding down your nose before you can even put them back on. Barney is standing just inside your office, back leaned against the doorframe, a lazy grin on his face. His helmet is pinned between his arm and hip, revealing slightly ruffled hair and a five o’ clock shadow. 

“I have to finish these reports,” you say curtly, scrubbing your glasses again. The lenses get only marginally cleaner, but at least you can see now. 

“I dunno, man. Looks like you’ve just been doodling here,” Barney says, suddenly much closer. He points at the margins of your notepad-- the very same one you’d been using for extraneous calculations.

“For science,” you retort, blushing. So what if you had gotten a little absentminded? You weren’t perfect, and stoutly believed that perfection was foolish.

“Flowers are very sciency,” Barney says sagely, nodding. He traces the darker lines of your sketch-- a daisy you had seen in a magazine during lunch. “My favorite flowers are coneflowers. Lotta variety in’em, and they grow everywhere.”

You pause, unsure of what to do with that information. What flower did you like? Maybe the lotus, or the water lily, which grew in shallow waters and seldom flowered. When they did, they were pretty, creating a serenity that you still chased from your childhood. But that was awfully sentimental for a scientist like you, wasn’t it? 

Thankfully, Barney didn’t seem to be expecting an answer, as he continued talking. His hands have moved on to clasping your shoulder and supporting his helmet, sending jolts of something down your spine. Reproachful goosebumps at being touched. 

“Say, d’you want to get a coffee with me? You really look like you could use one,” he asks suddenly, looking at you fully. 

You frown, then nod, rising to your feet. The office chair creaks like your joints do, disused muscles protesting against moving at all. You force yourself to stretch out, twisting back and forth to pop your back. God, how long had you been sitting there?

“Old man,” Barney snipes, chuckling. “Gotta get out more, Gordon!”

“I’m not the one with the gut,” you shoot back. 

“That’s muscle, and you know it.”

You did know it, actually. Barney’s physique was something you had gotten up close and personal with more than once. His softness was all dangerous curves and hidden power, the limits of which you were still feeling out. You bite your thumb to quell the pulse in your belly at such a thought. What you wouldn’t give to try something out right now.

But you had work to do. Files to report. A break room coffee machine to negotiate, since it seemed keen on not fucking working again. You thwack it with the heel of your palm, smiling with satisfaction as it immediately starts to hiss coffee. 

“Wanna do something while we wait?” Barney says, voice in your ear. He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his frame. Without waiting for an answer, he presses a kiss to your jaw.

You twist around in his grip, hands resting on his shoulders. He has a keen look in his eyes, familiar and hungry. You make a baffled expression, head tilting to the side as if trying to puzzle out what he could possibly mean.

In answer, Barney slides a hand up to your neck, giving him enough leverage to kiss you firmly on the mouth. His lips are rough, chapped, but not unpleasant as you melt easily into him, tongue playing experimentally at his bottom lip. He answers with teeth, nibbling flesh and sucking in before abruptly breaking away.

You chase him, even going as far as to put power behind it. You nudge him past the table and up against the wall, tilting his head back to slide your tongue just inside his mouth. He makes a low, pleasant noise in the back of his throat. It makes your gut do funny things, so you wedge your knee between his legs.

He’s already a bit hot, isn’t he? You chuckle against his mouth, lifting your head. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Barney says, pouting. He’s panting slightly, cheeks flushed with exertion. Red can be seen creeping down his neck, so you move your hands to undo the clasps of his security vest. They come undone in seconds, letting the clunky gear fall to the floor. 

Just as you move to loosen his tie, he pulls you back into a kiss, less vigorous than the first. Your sore fingers fumble, then give up, as you melt into him, sighing. You know he’s just trying to distract you, but you’re happy to let it work. But, as the kiss deepens, you dig your knee in, grinning at the startled groan it elicits.

Barney raises his hips just to settle over your knee, rolling his groin over your leg. Your nails claw at his chest, heat flooding you at the sight, so you once again attack his tie with a vengeance. The fabric is pulled apart gracelessly, letting his collar pop open. You use the last of your fading dexterity to pop open the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing slightly reddened skin and dark chest hair.

_Handsome_ , you want to say, but you can’t speak, so you just ogle him with as much open adoration you can muster. 

“Handsome,” Barney echoes, mirroring your expression. His hands abandon their place at your hips to return the favor; he’s much gentler in undoing your tie and shirt, fingers stroking near reverently across the newly exposed skin. You lean into his touch, tingling goosebumps rising in answer. 

You sigh, tension melting from your body, as he continues to unbutton your shirt. Broad, calloused fingers play across your stomach, ghosting across still-fading marks and healing bruises. He follows the lines of your thin frame, thumb dipping into divots of bone, nose scrunched in concentration. You bend down to kiss his forehead, then his temples, beard brushing across his nose.

Barney leans into you, using his vantage point to kiss along your jaw. Each one is feathery light, as if he’s scared to touch you, until he reaches your neck. There, he employs his teeth, nipping and suckling down to your throat. You lift your leg against his rear instinctively, groaning raspily as he rolls back against it. Fuck, you can feel him through the layers of fabric. To that end, you can feel yourself become increasingly damp, a pool of heat that only keeps building.

His hands work their way beneath your shirt, easily working it and your lab coat off. You break away long enough to shuck the fabric, shivering at the cold air.

“Hot,” Barney breathes, voice suddenly in your ear. He nibbles across your earlobe before attacking your neck with more kisses, broad hands now freely wandering your torso. Blunt nails drag teasingly across your back, but you shake your head, suddenly wheezing in pain.

As if burned, Barney breaks away, looking up with alarm. You’re careful to cup his face and kiss him gently, forgiving him instantly. Just like your stomach and arms, though, your back is also bruised to hell.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sheepish. “I’ll be careful.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth, nodding. 

“My office,” you mouth, jerking your thumb back. “Coffee can wait.”

Barney barks a laugh at that, loud in the relative silence of the room. You can’t help but laugh with him, squeaky and soft. You both had really just… went for it, in the middle of the night, in the AnMat break room. Fuck, and this wasn’t even enough to turn you off.

“Jesus, Gord,” Barney chuckles, shaking his head. “This is a plenty good wakeup call, I think. Let’s go.”

You drape your shirt and coat over your shoulder, falling into step after him. Hopefully, neither of you left too incriminating of evidence.

-

The door barely clicks shut and locked before you’re on Barney again, kissing his mouth while unbuttoning his shirt. He tosses his security vest aside, narrowly missing the filing cabinet, and fumbles for the leather belt around his waist. It comes undone with practiced ease and with a sigh of relief, he pulls down his jeans about half-way. You guide him onto your desk before slowly, slowly, you kneel down before him, flashing a grin.

“Christ, Doc,” Barney laughs, resting a hand over your head. His fingers search through your curls, pulling free your low ponytail.

You run your hands over his stomach, temporarily lulled by the feeling of Barney playing with your hair. His deft fingers negotiate knots and tangles while you press kisses over his belly, following the neat line of scars that trail up his side. They’re all uniform-- remnants of a machinery accident when he was a boy.

“I love you,” Barney says, and as you lock eyes, he knows you love him too.

But there was a dick you had to suck, so you maintain eye contact, hands following the line of his happy trail to his tented boxers. You grasp his erection through the fabric, feeling the size and length of it with teasing squeezes, thumb rolling across the head. He makes a rumbling noise, grip tightening on your hair.

You hook your thumbs around the waistband, carefully drawing his boxers down to his bunched up jeans. He’s definitely hard, cock curving up slightly and to the left, glistening slightly. You run the pad of your thumb over his head and to the base of it, nostrils flaring as he shudders beneath you.

“Gonna let me return the favor?” Barney asks, voice thick. “ _God_ , Gordon…”

You take him into your mouth instead of answering, cheeks coloring with the intensity of his attention. It’s warm, almost hot, on your tongue, but you work it in with practiced ease while settling your hands on his hips. Your thumb digs into the divots there as leverage, finally letting your eyes drift closed. 

It’s easy to strike up a rhythm, easy to fall into the thrill of feeling Barney fall apart beneath your hands. His cock twitches against your tongue, reactive to every touch, while his muscles tremble under his own restraints. You dig your thumbnail into his muscle, making a muffled sound when he finally gives in and rocks forward. 

_That’s good_ , you want to say, so you loosen your jaw, giving him the freedom to roll his hips. You try to follow him, but he giggles when it makes a weird sound, jerking his hips forward erratically-- then settling on that rapid pace, grip tightening on your hair. His amused expression twists into one of pleasure, nails digging into your scalp as you eagerly encourage him on.

“Fuck, Gordon,” Barney growls, riding out his climax with short thrusts. His grip slackens, and you slump down, panting to catch your breath but pleased with yourself. “You’re always so good at that,” he murmurs.

You smile, wiping your mouth free of drool before littering his stomach with kisses. 

“Mm, Gordie,” Barney says, tilting your head up. “D’you want me to…?”

His voice might trail off, but you know what he’s asking, so you nod. 

“ _Fuck_ , yes,” he says huskily, running his thumb across your temple. 

You work together to bring Barney’s pants back up, though the belt is forgotten. He helps you to your feet, as your legs seem to be jelly with the arousal you’d been ignoring for the better part of an hour. The office chair sags as you fall into it.

Barney stays your hands before you can reach for your own belt. Deftly, he undoes it for you, going after your trousers in the same motion. A helpful roll of your hips brings the fabric down faster and, to your surprise, the boxers go with them. You shudder at the sensation of cool air between your legs.

“I love you,” he says again, voice thick with conviction. “God, you look so good.”

He runs his hands over your thighs, following the spattering of freckles that hides beneath your leg hair. He bows his head, just to press open-mouth kisses from the crook of your knee to the slope of your hips, and you can’t stop the soft moan that slips out. 

“So good,” Barney reiterates, trailing kisses over your stomach before finally, finally hovering above where your dick waits, just peeking out between your folds. Hot breath ghosts over the sensitive flesh. You push yourself forward, leaning back just to give him better access.

His tongue is hot as it runs the length of your dick, licking exploratory stripes that have you arching your back and white-knuckling the office chair. He’s slow, almost tentative, with his administrations, sending rippling heat through your stomach. It’s slow, and it isn’t nearly enough.

Yet, just as you move to encourage him, try to communicate your need for more, he takes your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You wrap around his head instinctively, making a thin keening sound as his tongue plunges in with abandon. The office chair doesn’t even move as you rock against his face, breath coming fast and hot. 

Blunt nails dig into your skin, but you ignore it, even relish in it as you practically ride his tongue, uncaring of the racket you both might be making. With a gasp, Barney brings his head back up, only to close on your dick. 

It’s not a second that passes before your vision blurs, thighs trembling as you hit the high point. You can feel Barney suckling you through it, his expression one of deep and open adoration, only breaking away when you slump back down. You let him move you back into a more comfortable position, completely boneless.

“Was-- was that good?” Barney murmurs, peering up at you. His face is messy, probably sticky, with the aftermath. 

You nod vigorously, smiling, before trying to wrangle him into a kiss. 

“I love you,” he repeats, meeting you halfway. 

**Author's Note:**

> to the anon who asked me abt nsfw freehoun: here you go.
> 
> special thanks to the freehoun discord n all the folks who support me 
> 
> this was fun to write. feels human


End file.
